


Five Days, A Year

by drvology



Category: Eyewitness (US TV)
Genre: M/M, fic-a-month, my 2018 challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-01
Updated: 2018-02-01
Packaged: 2019-03-12 05:48:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13541031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drvology/pseuds/drvology
Summary: There are things that Lukas would do differently, if he had the chance.





	Five Days, A Year

**Author's Note:**

> In the same 'universe' as my other Eyewitness fics, grouped together with the 'at the falls of the aniene river' collections link. || In 2018 I'm hoping to write 1 fic a month. This is 01/12.

[ 1 - dinner ]

"Philip!"

He turns in place, heart suddenly in his throat, worrying worrying because Lukas is supposed to be on the other side of the building. It's been a long time since all the mess, since they've been together, but he still worries. Can't help it, same as he can't quite stop expecting this—here, Tivoli, how good things are with Helen and Gabe and especially Lukas—to end.

"Hey," Lukas says, loud enough for everyone in the hall rushing those last precious seconds to hear but softening as he approaches, same as his smile, sparkling sweeping gaze taking everything-Philip in.

"What?" Philip scans everywhere not-Lukas, scattershot, momentary tumult.

"Just this." Lukas cups Philip's jaw. "It's okay, all good," he whispers, kisses behind Philip's ear opposite his hold.

Noises rise around them, those tripping-up notes of tease that used to be mean and mocking and always aimed at him, but today are barely a ripple, same as would happen to any other couple sneaking something in the halls. He and Lukas are old news—one of the better parts of the story so far as Philip is concerned.

Lukas pulls up quick and rolls his lips between his teeth, like it's the only thing saving him from kissing Philip again, on the collarbone on the cheek on the lips. He's five steps away—walking backwards, walking fast, won't stop grinning at Philip—before he slaps his forehead. "Oh, right. I don't have conditioning tonight so get to the Tree ASAP. 'K?"

Philip nods and rubs the burning skin that Lukas just touched, just kissed, watches Lukas' gaze dip to his lips and Lukas blink once heavily before sighing, shaking it off, twisting to run as the last bell rings.

He stays rooted long after the bell goes silent and the hall is deserted. His skin still burns. They might be old news but they don't do much in public, and the kiss continues to riot through Philip's senses.

It's a good thing he's done with his school day—his photography independent study earns him some incredible, feels like getting away with something, he's working really hard at it and proving himself, flexibly—because he's useless for doing anything other than keeping fingertips pressed to the tingling spot on his neck. He finds locker and fumbles his bag onto a shoulder, is halfway out the main doors and trying to get his coat on over his bag when he huffs, drops his bag, shrugs into his coat, and gets going again.

He might go to school for photography. He's not sure—not sure about if photography will make him a living, that is. But he's applied for colleges even farther upstate, not places in the City like everyone suspects. Lukas wants to do vocational—motors and engines and that stuff—and keep competing. Philip knows Lukas is smart enough to get a "real" degree but he's also not a snob; knowing all about motors and engines and stuff is what Lukas excels at, will do good with.

Growing up as he did showed him the value of a solid job you can live with. Even enjoy.

After college he's not as sure. Lukas has moved to talking vague but real ideas about them taking over the house, working with his dad, but years and years from now. The offer came from Bo—not a demand or an expectation and made in front of Philip, to include Philip, but _only if you boys see your way to it_.

It's big. A surprise. The gesture, the sentiment, Bo seeing his way to that. He and Lukas both know it.

Gabe offered to show Philip the veterinary practice ropes. Philip started going with, learning, appreciating. He never considered such a thing but living around all the animals Gabe tends, watching how much Gabe helps, Gabe heals, and loving Kodak like he does, it's starting to make more and more sense. To appeal outright.

He can always take pictures of animals and Lukas and their farm.

Helen offered too—and Philip immediately declined. He understands some people turn to that after experiencing things like he and Lukas went through but he's not wired that way. He's honest enough with himself to know he'd be terrible at it, besides.

He doesn't even want to be a psychologist or whatever, even though he and Lukas still go see one. Philip wants quiet and Lukas and close to the City, to take care of Helen and Gabe years on if they'll let him, and nothing much more or more complicated. He'll always carry heavy baggage from the one thing they went through, from losing his mom to it. He'd never survive seeing so much as Helen has, as strong and courageous and forthright as Helen still is.

She knew when she offered, laughed keenly but kind, and didn't mind his noping totally out. But he was pleased she did.

He has time to decide. There are vocational schools farther upstate. It'll be okay—all good.

Philip gets to the Tree and settles in with a book. The sky is holding onto the sun, making it warm enough to shed his jacket for use as a pillow. He's drowsing when a familiar rattling noise and honking horn rouse him.

Lukas waves from the red, white, and rust compact truck he's inordinately proud of, spent the summer rebuilding from junked parts, wanted room for Philip and the dog and all their stuff when they go hiking or camping or out on "perfect-mud photo-finding missions," a way to haul their bikes around.

He waits a minute but Lukas doesn't step out to greet him or even kill the engine, so he stuffs his book into his bag and runs over. Lukas tugs him in as soon as he has the passenger door wrenched open and they kiss, stick shift denting his ribs when Lukas pulls too hard. Too needy. As wanting as him.

"Sorry," Lukas breathes, laughs, as Philip rights forward and drops onto the bench seat. He pats and then rubs Philip's ribs, pinches Philip's cheek—apparently thinks Philip close to the door is too far, pulls Philip nearer to sit under his arm—lets the truck roll in neutral back down the to the road.

Philip can tell where they're going. It's not long and they're at Lukas' house. Helen's Jeep is here, as is Gabe's truck.

"C'mon, loser," Lukas calls, already out of the car, no explanation or reaction to Philip's _okay what's this_ face.

Lukas speeds up and then crouches to pat the lawn, shout of pleased laughter and happy yips tugging Philip into motion, and Kodak streaks over to him next.

"Hey buddy, hey boy," he croons as Kodak writhes around his legs and then flops to show belly. He scratches in all the right spots, makes Kodak's back leg twitch and tail thump and muzzle relax into a goofy grin.

Kodak is big as a pony now—at least that's what Helen says, but Gabe always gently says no, definitely a small horse if Kodak is in hearing range—loyal to Philip and Lukas and protective to a fault. One ear points up and the other droops forward, sharp white-blue eyes, paws big as Lukas' broad palms, dusky grey and dun coat short on the body and long in the ruff making him look meaner than he is.

Lukas holds out a hand and Philip takes it, is hauled to stand, and they go around the house to the gazebo-thing they built with Bo over the summer. It was for bonding and doing something worthwhile with their time and Philip actually enjoyed building it. Bo praised his handiwork and attention to detail—something he still gets after Lukas about—and Philip might have preened a bit, a few times.

Between Bo doing his best and Gabe being the best something else altogether, Philip suddenly has father figures in his life. Ones he never figured to want or need. And is really glad to have.

Of course in Bo's praise came Lukas' simmering worries about being too dumb, too hick, too whatever for Philip. Philip would laugh, kiss the worry shadows from Lukas' eyes, say he's a poor hood kid who got lucky in finding a country gentleman gearhead.

It's not quite a fix but it evens things out. Lukas gets it, believes it these days, and it's part of the reason Philip in turn believes far upstate and college and vocational school and sticking it out, staying together, is going to work.

"Why don't you have conditioning? Did coach call off?"

"Nah." Lukas shrugs. "Football team still has to, but I had this to do instead."

Lukas wanted to get stronger and build stamina for riding, so he works out with the team but doesn't play. Coach didn't mind, and most of the guys seem cool with it—and that Lukas is with Philip, even if no one says that outright. Being welcome in the gym or running drills on the field is enough. Lukas told Philip about the idea and then said he didn't have to, that it would be hours every day they'd have to be apart, but Philip didn't mind.

There's a lot of benefit in it for Philip—social cache, Lukas' easing anxiety, their fit in Tivoli—sometimes he goes to practice and takes pictures or doesn't go to practice and takes pictures of things Lukas would get fidgety and bored in wait to capture. And the strength and stamina part does him a lot of good too, so. No complaints.

Philip takes in the table set for dinner, Helen and Gabe seated on one side, the long bench with two place settings to be claimed opposite them, Bo manning a grill and lifting a half-empty beer from the head of the table.

"What is this, exactly?"

"Dinner! Duh." Lukas grins, zeroes in on the spot behind Philip's ear he loves to bite-kiss-suck-lick and makes Philip shake every time, gives it a quick nip. "Smells amazing, Dad."

"Well set out the rolls so we can eat it, then." Bo nods at Philip. "Pick yourself a drink from the cooler, son."

The _son_ kind of grates, kind of doesn't. Philip hasn't fully decided about it yet. It doesn't feel strange from Gabe, sounds so different—he likes it from Gabe—but at least it's not forced from Bo, who started calling him that as they built the gazebo-thing spanning overhead.

It's cedar with copper accents, six-sided, big enough for the full table to be set to one side, the firepit in the middle, the other side with two deep outdoor armchairs waiting to be sunk into. Railings wide enough to sleep on, a slate roof for cover but with an oculus left at the center for the smoke to escape, and hidden zippable screens for when the bugs are bad.

There's a low fire burning and the old metal cooler is set on one of the rails, filled with sloshing ice and bottles bobbing around. Philip grabs the slippery necks, reads labels, decides on mango lemonade and gets a sparkling mixed-berry flavored water for Lukas. It's too cool out for ice-cold mango lemonade, but it's his current favorite, and Bo gets it because of that.

Besides, there's a fire and Lukas settled at the center of the bench, arm out for Philip to slide into, and Gabe hands him a thick flannel shirt after he puts the bottles down, wipes his hands on his jeans.

Philip smiles, shrugs into it, too long in the arms and big around the middle, buttons it all the way up. Helen lifts her arms in a subtle show—the rolled up sleeves of her thick flannel borrowed from Gabe circle her wrists like weights or manacles—and she winks as his wind up the same.

He does slide right in against Lukas, catches the low pleased sound Lukas probably isn't even aware of making, catches Lukas' hand that plants on the bench right next to his opposite hip.

"Thanks," Lukas murmurs, taps the sparkling berry water, kisses Philip's temple. They open their drinks using teamwork, Lukas holding the cap while Philip twists the bottle.

Bo points the tongs at Philip so he holds up his plate, balances it after the weight of a _this one should be medium rare just like you like_ steak threatens to tip the far edge. He piles his remaining plate real estate with the corn casserole Helen is actually good at making, a baked potato loaded with everything, broccoli, and salad.

There's a jello fruit and cream mold—he wants to laugh but damn if he doesn't like jello molds and they're one of Lukas' main vices—and a pile of the brownies he baked the other day.

"Eww, you got broccoli," Lukas says against his ear, breathy to make Philip tremble.

"It's good for you." Philip eats a spear, perfectly just-soft and buttery from getting steamed on the grill. Licks his lips and Lukas follows the gesture with an avid stare. "And tasty, if you weren't so picky."

"I'm not picky about plenty of things that are good for me. And tasty." Lukas waggles his eyebrows and his hand drifts to the small of Philip's back, down to rub Philip's ass.

Philip isn't even sure if the innuendo makes sense but it still works—he shivers despite rolling his eyes—but he gets a little back when Lukas shivers too despite crowing in triumph.

"This all looks wonderful. Thank you, Bo. And thanks for inviting us, Lukas." Gabe gives them one of those knowing, riddle of the Sphinx looks Philip never quite untangles.

"I'm glad you guys could come—glad it worked out." Lukas rubs his hands on his jeans as his leg bobs but he's smiling and nodding at Helen asking about his conditioning progress.

It makes Philip give Lukas a look—a why the invite, why the steaks and music drifting from the house and air of special occasion treatment look—but Lukas answers only with an almost shy smile.

Gabe breaks up Philip's silent interrogation, lifts his bottle of beer, and they all clink drinks in a casual toast.

"Good to hear—hope it will be. Dig in before it gets cold." Bo has his own look, for the boys to sit up and stop mooning and eat with manners, and they both do it without resentment. "So Helen, I hear you caught those punks trying to take deer from County Road 31. Bested the Game Wardens who'd been running in circles doing nothing for weeks."

Bo asks—question tinged with local, I know you pride—because he's interested, and Helen sits forward to begin a detailed answer because she likes being asked, likes talking about work.

Philip takes a too-big bite of the yes exactly medium rare steak and shares a smile with Gabe, both indulgently tolerant of Helen's exact details and pleasure in Bo's absorbed attention to them. Gabe's gaze shifts to Lukas and his smile mellows—that inscrutable fond look again—then he nods at Philip, switches his fork to his left hand to take hold of Helen's, and listens to her talk.

Lukas glances at Lukas, following on what made Gabe smile that way, but all he sees is Lukas sitting there not eating. Lukas seems almost nervous, which Philip doesn't quite get. Not enough to make him anxious, but there's something going on. It's been a long while since Lukas was nervous about being with him in front of Bo or Helen and Gabe.

"Okay?" he asks below Helen's tones.

"What?" Lukas stops wiggling the hunk of jello gleaming on his bread plate and focuses on Philip. "Oh—yeah. I'm great." He blinks but then a sudden grin confirms that. Lukas studies Philip, quick up and down flicks of his eyes, the chowed-down inroads Philip's made with dinner, and leans into Philip. "Are you okay? Is this nice? It's nice, right?"

His answer is important, Philip can tell, but it's easy to smile and lean into Lukas back, kiss Lukas' cheek. "It's very great."

"Double great, then." Lukas relaxes and reaches across Philip to grab a roll, elbows Philip whoops-on-purpose, takes hold of Philip's other hand hidden under the table between them.

 

[ 2 – away ]

Lukas shifts weight foot to foot and twiddles his fingers against his thighs. He checks his phone—nothing—turns in place full circle.

Three more turns and he stops, swoons, laughs when Philip snorts at his near-pitch to eat gravel that covers the roof.

"You got my text?" he asks, breathless and uncaring that Philip stands there, arms crossed, like he's an idiot. So it's a dumb question, whatever.

"Obviously." Philip waits a beat and then his eyebrows go up, arch and demanding and adorable. "Well?"

The best part is Philip doesn't look worried or upset or anything. Just looks kind of annoyed and kind of amused and can't hide checking Lukas out in all the ways Lukas is always looking at Philip.

"Wanna ditch the rest of the day?" He fits his hands to Philip's hips and tugs them together. "Get outta here for a while, all that?"

"Ditch? You serious?" Philip rears back to stare at Lukas. "I mean yeah, but, you haven't wanted to do that in… a while." His expression tightens and his eyes narrow. "Everything okay?"

Lukas smiles, kisses Philip's adorable frown, kisses again just for good measure. "Everything's fine. But I'm all caught up on homework thanks to study hall, I totally aced my test today, and why not?"

Philip is intent for another minute but then he sighs—relief and acceptance—nods. "Why not."

"Sweet." Lukas snags Philip's beltloops and maneuvers them to the ladder, gets them more or less there in a hurry between short kisses. "C'mon," he says unnecessarily, just before dropping down onto the first rung.

He doesn't watch Philip following. If he glanced up he'd wind up frozen, stuck staring at the amazing view and wasting the escape opportunity by pushing Philip right back up the ladder to make out on the roof some more.

They duck-run down the street where he moved his truck during lunch, edgy, ridiculous laughter trilling between them as they go, like anyone will notice or care about what they're doing. He drives them without saying anything more to a commuter rail station, grins at Philip's questioning look, gets them aboard and crammed mostly in one seat of a two-seater, remembers to get the tickets out of his pocket and stick them in the little headrest crevice of the seat in front of them. 

Lukas takes Philip's hand and spreads it over his thigh, palm up, traces the lines and whorls and contemplates the warmth of Philip's skin.

"Do something for me," he finally says, quieter than usual, and after Philip breathes _of course_ digs in his backpack for the thin-line black marker and pad of paper. "Write what I wrote. But like, leave space between them."

Philip wants to know what it all means—his sudden urge to play hookey, his mood, where they're headed—but Philip doesn't grill him about it. Just takes the pad of paper and writes what he asks, hands it and the pen back, kisses him soft and sure. If they weren't on this train, too brief.

He's not ashamed of being with Philip. No longer filled with dark, consuming want and conflicted terror and anger about that wanting. He's gotten super good at wanting Philip, accepted that it's a damn fine want, so good with having Philip as his _boy_ friend. Especially when it's just him and Philip.

He's getting there with the rest—the rest mostly being other people. Trusting them, showing them, not caring when he does. But one, these seats would suck for a heavy macking sesh, and two, he's better but still not great at it.

The other people part.

Philip doesn't mind. And like with his request just listens, accepts, expects to be told when it's time. Knows Lukas will.

That trust in him is one of the best parts of what he's gotten good at.

They eat the snack he packed for them and talk, comment on the landscape, the bright sun on the bright autumn leaves. Then the train racks into Penn and everything's dark and Lukas lets Philip find their escape route in the warren of tunnels and commuters and tourists. Once outside he relies on his phone, sets off toward Hell's Kitchen.

"Here," he says, funny nerves making his voice high.

He picked a place with lots of good reviews and not too far from the train station. A cowbell clanks the glass door as they push inside and trippy rock music greets them. Graffiti art is splashed all over the walls and he gets the strong sense of red, black, and stainless steel. It's also reassuringly clean and well-lit.

Lukas hovers in the entrance, tells himself to look cool and be bold. He gets the sketchbook from his bag, rips out the page he and Philip wrote on, is more excited about this now than afraid.

He's planned it so long in secret he had to act like it wasn't happening—Philip is too good at reading him, knowing him, and mostly he likes that, a lot, but it's the worst when he's trying to plan surprises—and muting that made him start to question if he really wanted it.

But standing here, Philip with him, looking at their handwriting and Philip's gaze tracking all around the shop, he definitely does. Really really does.

"Hello?" he says, overlapping a woman's voice calling from somewhere in the shop.

"Rick?" she asks as she emerges from a room behind the gleaming diamond metal front counter.

"Yeah, hi. I'm Rick." Lukas clears his throat and manages a confident half-smile. "Seems I'm right on time. You're Sean?"

"Yup." She grins like she's waiting for him to admit he thought Sean would be a guy, but he doesn't give it away, so she walks around the counter and beckons them to the back of the long, narrow store. "And I appreciate on time." Sean's punk or goth and sharp-featured pretty, in a punk or goth way, wears her black hair short and ripped jeans and several tank tops, reveals more tattoos Lukas tracks as she moves.

Lukas takes Philip's hand without even thinking about it, gets into the chair Sean indicates. Philip keeps hold as he shifts around and gets comfortable, sits on the empty rolling stool and watches him, curious and intrigued and a telltale flush that Lukas has to ignore for now.

"Are we still going with what we talked about?"

"Yep. Here." Lukas gives her the sketchbook page and points at Philip's work. "This one."

Sean studies it, the tight knot of their hands, Philip sitting there clearly interested and uninformed but patient. She smiles. "Nice. Let me just get it on a transfer and then we'll start."

"Cool." Lukas exhales the second she's gone. He's excited but nervous. It's not like he's done this before and he has no idea what to expect. Except that it'll hurt. But a lot? not a lot? Enough to make him wimp out?

"Breathe," Philip whispers, kisses Lukas' forehead. He props his chin in his hand and squeezes Lukas' hand. "So. A tattoo," he says dryly. "We ditched school so you could get a tattoo."

Philip's posture brings back a sudden memory, a flash of discomfort and remnants of the fear, lying in the hospital bed hiding out. Then lying in the hospital bed recovering—again. But it's also how Philip gazes at him when they forget they're supposed to be doing homework and when they're under the Tree talking about maybe going upstate for school. He lets the first go, clings to the other, squeezes Philip's hand back.

"That, yeah. But other reasons." Lukas grins and reaches out, taps Philip's chin with his finger.

He's on the verge of having to explain when Sean rescues him.

"On the arm? And still plain black?" she asks as Lukas is shrugging from his coat and flannel on the left side. "Great spot for this—you wrote it?" She looks at Philip.

"Yep, sure did." Philip shakes his head but smiles.

"That's sweet. And bigger than the stars." Sean lowers her stool and snaps on a pair of latex gloves.

Philip watches her alcohol swab his arm between elbow and wrist, as she applies the transfer to his skin, lining it up with his artery that leads to his hand to his heart. Watches her press it down, peel the paper carefully away, leaving Philip's mark. It's basically already carved there anyway—this is just a formality.

Lukas watches Philip the whole time. It's a small tattoo and Sean's work is neat and efficient. He doesn't feel the needle or any pain.

Sean pats the inflamed skin around the fresh ink, wipes and cleans and disinfects, goes over aftercare as she covers it with a special bandage.

"There. That wasn't so bad, was it?" She helps Lukas get his shirt and coat hooked over his shoulder. She winks and starts to clean up.

"I guess that makes it my turn."

Philip blinks when they both turn and stare at him.

"What?" Philip asks, like no big deal, like it isn't everything and everything Lukas has hoped for while plotting every detail of this.

Lukas decided not to ask Philip to get one too, in case Philip would only because he did. But he's elated Philip will, thrilled Philip wants one too, just like that. From seeing his. From so clearly getting the meaning behind them. He grins, pulls Philip's hand to him to kiss.

Philip grins back. "We have –Rick's one for me on the sketchbook page too, right?"

Sean doesn't miss a beat. "Like I said—bigger than the stars."

Lukas thinks she also didn't miss Philip's slight hesitation over his not-real name, but she hides it well. He also isn't quite certain what she means; he understands it, gets it knows it's forever. Agrees, completely.

"And not like fitting both these small tattoos in one session will be a strain." Sean nudges Lukas. "Up you get."

"Oh—yeah." He's kind of shorting out but manages to switch places with Philip and not fall on his face or miss the stool as he drops too hard.

Then he's completely shorting out blood rushing to his groin tingling everywhere hot pulse of need thumping through him when Philip arches in one sinuous movement, shirts rucked to show one of Lukas' favorite spots to kiss and suck and fuck against.

"Here, please," Philip says with a smile that's a little too knowing as he points at the prominence of a rib, drags his finger along it and down to the left side from under his heart, by the mole Lukas likes to find. Fixates on.

Lukas is really fixated now, watches in a haze as Sean repeats the process. He hardly noticed getting tattooed but swears he feels each millimeter that marks and stains and claims Philip.

The rest is a blur. Sean's small talk, taking the printed care instructions she gives him, paying in cash and Philip making go-on motions as he adds twenties until she's got a 100% tip.

"Thank you," Philip says for probably the fifth time as they head to the door.

"Yeah—thanks. These are great." Lukas stands a moment and grins at her, goofy and wide.

"You're welcome, you cuties. Goddamn. Come back anytime." She waves as they leave and the cowbell clanks behind them.

The cool air outside revs Lukas from his stupor and he guides them to the walk-up pizza place he mapped in his phone, then to the frozen yogurt bar. They get super huge ones topped with fruit and candy and cereal and whipped cream, trade bites as he navigates them to the next destination.

Philip offers no comment on where they are or might be going. Allows Lukas to lead them around, and that is amazing and awesome but it's also reassuring that if he gets them really lost, Philip can find their way out again.

"'s probably a metaphor," Lukas muses, after trying to explain.

"It definitely is." Philip stops because Lukas has stopped.

"Here." Lukas hands Philip his fake and gets Rick's ID out again. "Another block and we're there."

Philip grins and bobs, and they're laughing and playing grab-ass so much the bouncer rolls his eyes and shoos them in. The club is loud and dark and Lukas is so horny he can't stand it.

He hooks Philip's elbow and gets them past the dance floor, down a dark hall, into some weird rooms where other guys seem to have the same issue with impatience as him.

"Drinks later," he shouts, most of it swallowed by Philip's demanding kiss.

They grind and unzip and grope and Lukas tries not to bite Philip where it'll show at school later. His tattoo burns and throbs with his heartbeat—matches the roll of Philip's hips—and he's coming before they even do much. Philip is right there with him, gnaws at his lips, grunts and makes that sexy noise of satisfied completion that only Lukas gets to hear.

The benefits of a gay club, he thinks, as they stand in the dark weird room and recover and kiss and kiss and kiss and no one cares. The benefits of a boyfriend, he thinks, and laughs enough to break their kiss.

He tucks back in and does up his jeans and can't watch Philip do the same. They thread their way to the bar and get a house special, vodka and berry and something orange. It's delicious. He has three.

They don't really dance but it doesn't really matter, holding each other and swaying and no one caring.

Lukas' phone buzzes in his pocket and he flicks the alarm, set it to remind him it's time to scoot or they'll miss their train. He pulls Philip into a kiss as they're leaving, in the way of everyone, until the bouncer barks at them to move their sweet asses. Kiss in the way of everyone but no one cares about the kiss—about him being a boyfriend and having a boyfriend—most especially him.

They make their train and sit in content silence as it rolls, fading city lights pulled like candy floss through the thick windows and steady motion.

Philip rests his head on Lukas' shoulder and Lukas raises his arm, tucks Philip close. Philip draws Lukas' arm into his lap. Undoes buttons, carefully pushes the sleeves back.

Lukas stares at the tattoo, in Philip's handwriting. He imagines the one on Philip, written by his, branded to his senses for always. It feels hot against his side even through their shirts and coats. They stay that way the whole ride to the commuter lot. Stretch out of their seats, stumble to his truck.

He unlocks the passenger door and follows Philip's boost to stand in the vee of Philip's legs.

"That was an awesome day." Philip rests his forehead on Lukas'. "You're amazing."

"No, you," Lukas breathes.

Philip straightens, skims his ribs and touches Lukas' arm. "I love them." His jaw works and then he bites his lip but then he says, "I love you."

"No, you," Lukas repeats. He waits a beat and then holds Philip's gaze. "I love you too."

Philip blushes and Lukas laughs. Because he's happy. Because he'll always be what that tattoo says, means. Because of what Philip has carved into his arm, his heart, his life.

_Safe_

 

[ 3 - promise ]

Philip slows his bike, swings a leg over and stands on the pedal, lets it roll until the front tire wobbles. He drags his toe against the road and hops down, walks his bike in an ungainly hurry.

He checks his phone—less than ten minutes to get here. Nice. He's been working out shortcuts and shaving off every second he can find, has to book it to get from school to the sheriff's office and back if he wants more than bolting down pizza and shouting hi-bye for a lunch hour.

But it's worth it. He enjoys their lunches. Crazy but true. Or maybe most crazy that it isn't crazy anymore. It's given, it's their everyday, and yeah there's annoyances and flare-ups and whatever but mostly it's all going pretty damn good.

Pretty damn good is the best Philip's ever had.

Months ago Helen invited him to join her and Gabe's weekly pizza lunch. Surprised happiness zinged along his nerves, but he'd managed a calm counter, said sounds cool but what if I just come every other week. Played it like getting to and from school was enough of a hassle to have him set the limit, but that's not really it.

As much as it's good these days and the pizza really is decent and their company and questions and interest welcome, he doesn't want to totally intrude on their time. Doesn't quite need that much company and questions and interest. He figures she knows all that, and that she really doesn't hate the instead-of every other week arrangement. He doesn't mind.

Philip is almost to the corner when a shadow falls over him, and a hand lands on the handlebars. Guides the bike in an arc to backtrack, behind the buildings, lets go of the bike and spins him, pulls him into the dark garage, pulls him into looping arms and a drugging kiss.

He doesn't tense or fight. Knew instantly who it was—knew from the shadow, the shape of the hand and the impression in his periphery, the warmth next to him—sighs into Lukas' mouth as he's backed against the wall.

Before he makes full contact Lukas cradles his head in a hand, holds it tenderly, massages his scalp and teases his hair, a gentle barrier from the cold cinderblock. Lukas kneads his shoulder, his neck, rubs their noses together and drops sweet, hi hello I missed you I need you haphazard kisses across his face.

An involuntary noise of pleasure escapes his throat because this is his. Lukas is his. And it's more than this is how he always believed Lukas could be—from the moment they touched, the instant they first made searing can't-look-away who-are-you eye contact, through all the crap—it's how he always knew Lukas was. What Lukas continues to be, just for him only him only them like this, and it makes him insane and giddy and smug, settles and completes him like nothing else ever has.

Philip gives willingly, gives over, slides his hands under Lukas' sleeves so he can find the healing tattoo there. Lukas grunts, tilts his head, angles in for a deeper, more demanding kiss. Gets a hand under his shirts and frames his tattoo, endlessly circles its edges with a thumb.

Later, minutes later, Philip reluctantly breaks their kiss. He rests his head on Lukas' shoulder and pants, dizzy from everything, feels like he's glowing inside-out.

"Sorry," he whispers at Lukas' grumpy sounds. "But lunch will be over without us even getting anything if we don't move." He huffs a laugh and adds, "The whole day will be."

Lukas is panting too. He nods, pushes his thumbs to the soft points of Philip's jaw to get them eye to eye, smiles. His gaze is kind of faraway as he kisses the corner of Philip's eye, the corner of Philip's mouth. "Yeah, yes—that's better."

Philip isn't sure quite what but he doesn't exactly disagree. Another, final, last kiss is always definitely better. He pushes up, seeking, can't help himself, but Lukas manages to pry away and tugs him along.

They retrieve his bike, one walking on either side, hands laced on the seat.

Gabe starts yelling as soon as they walk in, exaggerated relief and how he worried if they'd ever show up, was just sitting here telling Helen she should put on her siren and go in search in case they'd gotten lost. Helen grins wickedly, makes a silly whoop-whoop sound, and in the ensuing silence grabs two pieces of pizza, bows into her chair with flourish, and arches an eyebrow with a grin.

Lukas holds his hand all the way to the card table. Doesn't let it go until they leave twenty minutes later, waving and agreeing on where to meet after school and yes he'll bake bread for dinner and yes Lukas can come over. Finds it again once they're walking, slower pace than time really allows, all the way back and into school.

 

[ 4 - stay ]

The door is unlocked like always and Philip leaves it open a little bit, doesn't expect to be inside long. He climbs the stairs, heart racing and skin buzzing with anticipation.

It hasn't even been two hours since they parted, but his heart does this at just the thought of his boyfriend, never mind the promise the precipice the breathless seconds before seeing and touching and being with Lukas again.

He sudden-stops just inside Lukas' darkened bedroom. Lukas lays on the bed all floppy and open and trusting, fell asleep waiting for him. Philip's racing heart thumps, goes soft, melts against his ribs, pools warmly in the cup of his solar plexus.

"Hey," he whispers, after a careful tiptoe to the side of the bed, likely can't be heard over Lukas' music. He pulls in vital lungfuls of Lukas' scent, a bit of sharp fresh outdoors clinging still and musky funk from sweat and sleep, kisses Lukas' forehead and nose and exposed pulse point at Lukas' collarbone.

Lukas doesn't startle—he makes a noise as warm and gooey as Philip's insides, rolls and wriggles, fumbly reach to find Philip, drags Philip down beside him, spoons them—wraps them in a blanket and Philip in his arms.

"Hey," Lukas croaks, not really awake, chin on Philip's shoulder and hot breath skating Philip's jaw. He tugs another set of earbuds from beneath them, presses them to Philip's hand and presses kisses to the nape of Philip's neck, tightens his hold to hold them tighter together. Presses his hand to just below Philip's heart.

A heavy, scrabbling rush approaches, and Philip braces for it. Kodak leaps on the foot of the bed and squirms up, up, up, to get pets and greetings and excitedly reunite.

Lukas' laugh is a lazy, hot exhale. He tugs them backwards even more, makes room for Kodak to curl into Philip's front, lifts a hand as Kodak gets settled so Kodak can get scritches before settling in.

What's left of Philip's heart goes molten, and when it cools it'll reform in the shape of Lukas' palm. He wraps his own around Lukas' arm, the word he knows is there, the truth of it they've created between them.

Philip gets his earbuds in and a bluegrass slow song he recognizes from Helen's rotation surrounds him, sweet and beguiling as the heat of Lukas' body pressed to his, as Kodak's rumbly, contented sigh. He can't remember what they planned to do with their evening, but this is better than good.

 

[ 5 - begin not end ]

"Is this… we don't have to."

Philip watches Kodak sniff and amble around. Kodak isn't bothered, goes right inside, and to be honest Philip isn't bothered either.

Having Kodak soften the way helps. Having Lukas holding his hand helps a lot. Having zero lingering fear that this is temporary and in danger—not him, not from a killer, but being with Lukas—helps the most. He tightens his grip and smiles.

"Okay. Good." Lukas nods and fidgets and goes inside ahead of him, patiently waits until he's ready to follow.

It takes half a heartbeat.

"Whoa." Philip draws up short to look around.

There's candles ready to light and a fire going in the small stove. The bed is crammed with blankets and pillows and a small sofa has been added to the room and everything is fresh, clean.

"You've been busy."

"It's okay?"

Philip tugs Lukas in for a kiss. "Yes, it's fine. It looks great in here."

It does, without looking different, without losing that faded, lived-in feel he first liked about it. And it does without looking the same, without looking like after when everything went so wrong, here.

"We have the weekend. If you want," Lukas hurries to add. "I asked Helen and she said it's cool so long as we don't _gallivant around_. And Dad knows. He doesn't mind either. I said we'd do some chores and stack firewood and stuff—if that's okay."

"Oh my god, Lukas—it's okay!" Philip is almost sharp but then he catches Lukas' expression, grabs one of Lukas' hands and shakes Lukas' whole arm. "I'm okay. This is great. And a whole weekend alone with you and with permission from Helen where I didn't have to ask? Very super okay."

"Okay." Lukas finally relaxes and starts darting around the room. "I got us beer and snacks and stuff to cook on the grill. And some of your cookies and brownies and that lemonade you like. And there's board games and my laptop if we want to watch movies—and we can go not-canoeing or just… hang out."

"I like just… hanging out." Philip grins but Lukas doesn't grin back. He can't read Lukas' mood and Lukas is still a little jumpy. "What?"

Lukas purses his lips and then after a minute sighs. "It's our anniversary. I mean, kind of. It's when I brought you here and we kissed and made out and then." He swallows the rest. "Today's also kind of a terrible anniversary. Maybe I—" he swallows again.

Philip knew that's what today was but he hadn't thought about it like that. An anniversary. Lukas isn't wrong, and how they got together wasn't exactly normal.

"Maybe you?" Philip prompts.

"Am an idiot?" Lukas huffs and his shoulders slump. "I'm getting it all wrong. I got everything worked out perfectly that I wanted to say and now I'm blanking."

"You're not an idiot. Well, you are, but not about this."

"Thanks." Lukas rolls his eyes and starts to pace. "It's just. I don't know when else our anniversary would be—should be. Both of those things made us, you know?" He pauses long enough for Philip to nod.

Philip knows, in his own way.

"This is kind of crappy to admit, but without all the shit that happened, I'm not sure if I'd have gotten brave enough to tell people about us. To admit to you even, about us. About me wanting us." Lukas scoffs. "To admit to _me_ about that. So yeah, it's a good anniversary, because we kissed and made out—because you were brave enough to kiss me. And good because without what happened here after we kissed, I think I'd have ruined everything before too long, lying forever and being an asshole and driving you away." He lets out a miserable breath.

Philip's heart seizes, crimps.

"And I can't imagine life that way. I literally can't stand to think about if all we had was me lying and hiding and pushing you away, and not having you with me all the time, just, _with me_ and us being good and together and everyone knowing." Lukas stops rambling and stops pacing, opens his hands and stares at Philip. "Does that make any sense?

Phillip is nodding, heart soaring, and he drags Lukas into a hug. Buries his face in Lukas' neck, kisses Lukas' pulse, rocks them back and forth.

"Perfect, completely, not idiotic sense."

He could swoon. He should. Lukas deserves it.

"So if this is our anniversary—which it is I agree amazing call—what was the dinner and going to the City and the tats and everything?"

"It's just." Lukas tightens his arms. "All those things came after the cabin—the bad shit at the cabin, the asshole stuff I did—and I thought it should come first instead. But better."

"Like a do-over?"

"Total do-over."

Philip closes his eyes. "I like this total do-over."

"Good." Lukas rubs his nose through Philip's hair. "I do too."

They stand there a long time, long enough for Kodak to be snoozing on the sofa and the sun to be sliding past the horizon and Philip's legs to ache.

When they pull apart Lukas' eyes shine with tears but they're spent, not bad ones, nothing to worry about. Philip doesn't hide his either.

"So, what do you wanna do first?" Lukas steps back and opens his arms. "Play cards? See if you can beat me at Yahtzee? Go for a—"

Philip pushes Lukas onto the bed, toes from his shoes and tugs Lukas' boots off, crawls to straddle Lukas' hips. Lukas grabs his hips, one hand skimming under his shirt to find his tattoo, as heat and color spreads across Lukas' pale skin.

"This, to start," Philip says into a kiss.

"This is good." Lukas has their jeans unbuttoned and yanks at their shirts, palms Philip's ass. "To start."

Philip laughs and nips Lukas' throat, makes Lukas snicker, groans when Lukas bites his lower lip and sucks on his tongue.


End file.
